


To The Victor Go The Spoils

by Darkrivertempest



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Affairs, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-25
Updated: 2013-02-25
Packaged: 2017-12-03 13:29:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/698779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkrivertempest/pseuds/Darkrivertempest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hermione thinks her fiancé is the best Keeper around. Leave it to Theo Nott to disabuse her of the notion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To The Victor Go The Spoils

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Hermione's Birthday Challenge, 2011 on Granger Enchanted! 
> 
> I can't thank my beta, Ssddgr, enough and I had to laugh when she asked, "Who the hell is Theo Nott? You made him up, didn't you?" God love her, she doesn't work in the HP fandom, but I'm glad she works with me. 
> 
> **Disclaimer:** The characters and canon situations in the following story belong solely to JK Rowling, Scholastic and WB. I am not making any money from the publishing or writing of this story.

Hermione loitered about the secluded entrance to the Arrow’s locker room, wringing her hands. 

“It must’ve been some of those Wrackspurts Luna is so fond of that caused him to miss the last three Quaffles,” she muttered under her breath. She paced slowly back and forth, biting her lower lip. “Or maybe he was Confounded!” Her eyes lit up with the possibility of a law suit against the National Quidditch League then dimmed when logic overtook her hyperactive brain. “No, there’s always a magical field barrier present during professional games, which prevents spectators from influencing the players.” She stopped her pacing and, in a fit of pique, stomped her foot in irritation. “It’s not fair!”

“You’re right; it’s not,” drawled a voice behind her. “It’s not fair that they inflicted Weasley on us in the first place.”

Hermione whipped her head around and inhaled sharply. There stood Theodore Nott, lounging against the locker-room door, smirking at her. 

“He has just as much right to be here as the rest of you,” she gritted out, her chin notching up an inch. “There are two more tryouts for the Keeper position, so don’t assume it’s yours yet.”

Theo gave her an indolent look. “Believe what you want, Granger.” He straightened and ran a hand through his dark blond spiky hair. “But the rest of us choose to live in the real world.” He gave her a Cheshire grin, his blue eyes twinkling with something that made her insides do an unexpected flip flop. “This isn’t Hogwarts anymore.”

“How unfortunate,” she said with a sneer. 

“Not for me.” He moved forward, stopping just shy of actually touching her. He leaned in, letting his nose brush her cheek and causing her to inhale sharply at the unexpected and tender gesture. “For me, fortune is being in the right place—” He caressed her skin with his lips before pressing them to her cheek “—at the right time.”

Hermione hadn’t realised she had closed her eyes during the entire episode, but when she opened them, the seductive Slytherin was gone, much to her relief. Touching her cheek with her cool fingers, she could feel the flame of embarrassment colouring her face, and had to remind herself to breathe. 

“Oi, Hermione? You okay?” Ron Weasley’s voice cut through the fog of her stupor.

“What?” She blinked and cleared her throat. “Erm, yes. Fine. Just fine.” She smiled wanly at his sceptical expression. 

“You had that funny look about you. You know, like when you were researching about Horcruxes.”

Dear Merlin, not _that_ look! That was her most determined, most puzzled, most obsessive look that she could think of. And the only reason she knew was that she’d happened to glance in a mirror during a late night study session regarding the horrid things, and had been taken aback by what she’d seen: utter devotion to studying her subject. Mentally, she groaned. This interest in Theo Nott’s behaviour towards her spelled abject misery on her part.

Because if she knew herself—and who could know her better, honestly—Hermione would not rest, would not sleep, and most importantly, would not give up until she understood the former Slytherin’s peculiar actions. Nothing would keep her from delving into Nott’s twisted psyche to discover his motivation for kissing a virtual stranger, and one he considered beneath him at that.

Not even said wizard’s winning Ron’s coveted position.

@@@

The second tryout was worse than the first, at least for Ron. Hermione reluctantly and silently admitted that Nott was the better Keeper of the five that were trying out. If she were honest, Ron came in at a distant third. Harry, having immersed himself in Auror training, wasn’t there to boost Ron’s morale like he’d done during sixth year. Anything she said to avoid a defeatist attitude fell on deaf ears, his reasoning being that Hermione knew next to nothing about Quidditch, this sentiment being backed up by his sister Ginny. It didn’t matter how many times she coddled his bruised ego; Ron would scowl, peel off the padding of his uniform, and head to the Burrow for the support of his family. 

Hermione frowned at this thought. Wasn’t she his family, or very soon to be, now? Why did she get the feeling that she was just an outsider that was merely tolerated by the Weasley clan instead of being embraced warmly? She grimaced when she thought back to her fourth year and the way that Molly had glared at her, calling her a ‘scarlet woman’ for leading her poor Ron on. _As if!_ Ron had been happy slobbering over his then future sister-in-law, truth be told. So lost in uncharitable thoughts was Hermione, that she didn’t notice the shadow which had fallen across where she sat outside the Arrow’s locker room. 

“One of these days you’re going to gnaw your bottom lip off.”

Startled at the smooth voice, she looked up to see Nott smirking at her as he casually lounged against the brick wall. “What business is it of yours if I do?” she snapped.

He moved to sit next to her, leaning in close. “Because then I couldn’t do this.” Theo cupped her cheek and pulled her forward until their lips were pressed together. 

He nibbled on the same bottom lip he had chastised her for biting and ran his tongue along her upper lip until she gasped and allowed him entrance. His tongue delved into her mouth and snaked its way around hers, touching the roof and outlining her teeth. He retreated momentarily, only to suck in a lung-full of air, and then plunged back in. 

Oh, this was... heaven! Her insides felt alive with a fire that was slowly crawling through her veins to settle in her core. She heard herself whimper and clutched at his sweaty uniform, trying to move closer, to the point she was practically in his lap. When he let his lips trail down her jaw to worry her earlobe between his teeth, she moaned. Loudly. Things never got this heated with Ron, even during sex. How was this possible? 

Wait. 

Ron!

Pulling back suddenly, Hermione covered her red and somewhat bruised mouth with her hand, fingers trembling and eyes wide. Theo was just as flushed as she was, his breath panting little puffs of steam in the chill autumn air. He made to kiss her once more, but she stumbled away from him and righted her slightly mussed clothes.

“Don’t... do that again,” she managed after several gulping breaths, pointing her finger at him.

He pursed his lips in annoyance before he stood. “Why not?”

She gave him an incredulous look. “I’m engaged!”

A slow smirk appeared on his lips. “That didn’t stop you from crawling into my lap now, did it?” He crossed his arms with a superior air.

Her jaw dropped a tad. Didn’t he know she had no control over her actions when the life was being kissed out of her? By the smug look he was giving her, he obviously did. She wanted to wipe that obnoxious sneer off his face.

The crack of her hand against his cheek was loud and could almost be heard above the shouts of family and friends cheering on their respective prospects for the team. She didn’t dare let him see that it stung the flesh of her palm like hellfire. 

His jaw clenched with suppressed fury, but he didn’t move. When she raised her hand to slap him again, he grabbed her wrist and pushed her face-first into the unforgiving brick wall, keeping her arm twisted in the back. 

“Don’t ever touch me like that again, Granger,” he hissed low in her ear. He chuckled at her whimper of pain. “I won’t let you do to me what you’ve done to Weasley.” He relaxed his grip on her wrist and tugged her hand low, until she was forced to cup the obvious erection pressing against his Quidditch breeches. “I won’t beg for your pretty quim, like he does.” He pressed his full weight into her and ground himself against her hand and arse. “You’ll come to _me_ because I’m the only one that will really satisfy you.” Shifting her riotous curls over her shoulder, he kissed the nape of her neck, his breath hot on her skin. “Weasleys are a Knut a dozen. I’m the only Nott left—rare and in demand.” Theo thrust once more and then let her go. “And I’m exceedingly intelligent,” he said proudly. “Think of all the possibilities.”

She was shaking too badly to form any words, so she turned to face him and crossed her arms, willing tears not to form from his rough treatment of her. 

He took in her frightened look. “I’ll give you what you want, if you ask nicely.”

It was as if a rod had been shoved straight up her spine. She stood tall and glared at him. “I want _nothing_ from you,” she spat. “You could never give me what I want.”

Theo cocked his head to the side to study her. “What is it you think you want?”

“Love, friendship, passion, a family, a career that allows me to help others,” Hermione listed off, having had this particular path plotted out for her since she had met Ron Weasley. “Again, things you could never give me.”

Coming to stand in front of her, he tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “You think Weasley can give you those things?” He snorted mirthlessly. “If he makes love the way he plays Quidditch, it’s no wonder you’re dying for a decent shag.”

He Disapparated before she could slap him again for his impertinence.

She stood there in the falling twilight, her mind going a thousand directions, but her heart only centred on one. And it had nothing to do with Ron Weasley.

@@@

“What’re you doing?”

Hermione glanced up from her letter. “I’m writing to Professor McGonagall. Why?”

Ron frowned. “Just wondering. You’re very quiet tonight. You have that look again.”

Damn. “I’m just wondering about my N.E.W.T. scores, that’s all. I haven’t received them yet and I was curious to see if they were misdirected,” she lied. Damn again. It shouldn’t have been that easy to fib to Ron.

He shrugged like he didn’t care, and put on his travelling cloak. 

“Where are you going?” she asked, although she probably knew the answer.

“Home. I’ll be back later.” No kiss, no hug before he Disapparated to the Burrow.

Tears formed in her eyes until they blurred the writing on the parchment. “I thought _I_ was home,” she murmured to no one.

But in her heart she knew that hadn’t been true for a long time.

She gave a loud sniff, determined not to feel sorry for herself. She continued her letter, requesting to know anything about Theodore Nott that McGonagall could tell her. It was underhanded and sneaky to ask about his grades, his behaviour, _anything_ that way, but she suspected there wasn’t much known about the reclusive Slytherin. Once finished, she summoned her owl, Demeter, and sent her on her way to Hogwarts with the missive.

Exceedingly intelligent her arse! She would see just how smart the bold wizard was... and then she would rub his face in it.

@@@

Hermione groaned. 

She was not going to rub Theo Nott’s face in anything. According to the current Headmistress of Hogwarts, Nott’s grades were one point shy of Hermione’s own. He had also taken his N.E.W.T.’s on schedule, having completed his seventh year under Snape’s watch, while she had been rushing headlong across the whole of Britain to find the elusive Horcruxes. Plus, he had managed to avoid the whole pure-blood Death Eater nonsense his father had embraced. Unlike Draco, Nott had not been dragged into the vile ‘club’ to uphold his family’s honour. In essence, he had a clean slate.

And that bothered Hermione more than his melt-worthy kisses. 

How could a Slytherin of that calibre stay virtually hidden amongst the throng of nasty bigots the house seemed to be comprised of? He wasn’t one of Malfoy’s lackeys, didn’t taunt or jeer when his classmates did, and was intelligent to boot. If anything, he sneered at everyone, pure-blood and Muggle-born alike. This made his interest in her all the more confusing. 

Sitting back with a sigh, she glanced around the flat she shared with Ron, wondering where he was at the moment. Darting her gaze to the calendar, she felt her eyes widen in panic. “Third tryout” was circled in red for that day’s date. Jumping up, she grabbed her scarf and mittens and Disapparated to just outside the Arrow’s stadium, where she stood and waited.

She had conveniently forgotten her cloak.

@@@

“You’ll catch your death in this weather, Granger.”

Arms wrapped around her torso and teeth chattering, Hermione narrowed her eyes at the steaming figure of Nott leaving the locker room. “Good,” she stuttered. “Then I-I’d be rid of-of you.”

His smile was _not_ supposed to affect her this way! “I’m nice and warm,” he purred, holding out his hand.

She pointedly ignored it and turned away from him. Consequently, she didn’t notice he had moved, until he embraced her from behind, the heat from his just-showered body seeping into her chilled bones. She couldn’t help it; she relaxed against him and let her head fall on his chest. The warmth was so inviting, it was sinful. He seemed to radiate fire, and she feared she would be utterly consumed.

“Weasley was extremely pathetic this evening,” he whispered as he nuzzled just below her left ear.

She stiffened automatically and tried to pull away, but his arms tightened around her and kept her from moving much. “Let go of me,” she ground out.

“No,” he said with quiet laughter. “I like you right where you are.” He latched onto the slim column of her neck and nibbled up and down its length, raising gooseflesh on her skin that had nothing to do with the cold. He loosened his grip only to slip his hands under arms and cup her breasts. “You’re still cold,” he cooed in a low tone, plucking at her stiff nipples. 

Unable to help herself, Hermione moaned as his deft fingers kneaded, rolled and flicked her hard peaks through her flimsy blouse. When he gave a tentative thrust against her arse, she arched her back and met him halfway. His harsh gasp had her trying again, and she secretly thrilled in his unrestrained groan. 

Pulling her closer, he lifted her just enough for her feet not to touch the ground. “You’re coming with me,” he growled, and backed them into an unlocked shed, where Quidditch equipment was stored.

Once inside, Theo shut the door, muttered a weak _Lumos_ and stood behind her trembling form. He grabbed her hair, twisted it around in his fist until it was in a neat coil and tugged her head back slowly, angling her neck. “Do you like it when Weasley fumbles his way around your body?” he hissed in her ear.

Whimpering, she frantically shook her head and tried to break free, only to be pulled back against his chest. 

“You’re not going anywhere until this is settled.” Her mass of curls wound into a bun, he cast a spell for the hair to stay put and off her neck. “You should be a little more circumspect about whom you ask for information about me, Granger.”

Her struggles renewed, but he wrapped an arm around her waist and one around her shoulders, pinning her to his body. “McGonagall’s deputy is a Slytherin and opens all her mail before she reads it,” Theo supplied with a derisive tone. “Imagine my surprise when I got a note from a fellow classmate, telling me that the Gryffindor know-it-all is checking up on me.”

“That information is part of public record!” she cried and tried to pry his wry arms off her.

He licked his way up the creamy column of her neck, nipped the crux of her shoulder and snarled, “Why didn’t you just go to the Ministry then? Why ask the Headmistress?”

“I-I wanted to...” But she was quickly falling under the seductive spell of his lips on her flesh.

“Wanted to what, Hermione?”

Dear Zeus on Olympus, the way he said her name was like silky chocolate, and everyone knew her weakness for chocolate. “I wanted to know about you... about why you kissed me,” she admitted softly. 

He relaxed his hold somewhat and snorted. “You think you can find the answer in my school records?” 

She looked at him over her shoulder, his pale eyes nearly glowing in the low light. “She told me you stayed out of the Death Eater camp. That means a lot to me.”

Theo stared at her. “You have the oddest priorities, you know?”

Flinching slightly, she turned to leave, but his hands snagged her back. 

“Where do you think you’re going? I said we need to settle this.”

“Settle what?” she asked incredulously. “There’s nothing between us _to_ settle!”

Instead of answering, he splayed his wide hand on her abdomen and pressed her arse into his erection. He let his other hand drop to slide his nimble fingers over her skirt and down her inner thigh. “Has Weasley stuck his pathetic excuse of a cock in your tight cunt since tryouts began?” he purred against her cheek.

She shook her head. “He said it would dull his performance on the field.”

Theo fingered the hem of her skirt and dragged the material up her thigh, caressing her skin and hooking his thumb on the outer seam of her knickers. “What an unmitigated arse. No wonder the git can’t relax enough to keep an eye on the Quaffle.”

“What do you mean?” She was panting, his hands creating havoc with her senses. 

He ran his fingers over the damp fabric covering her mound and pressed the heel of his hand just where she needed him to. 

“Oh, God. 

Pulling her knickers to the side, he slipped one long digit into her wet core, lazily pumping until his hand was nearly coated in her juices. “If you play without tossing off or shagging beforehand, you risk losing your head because you’re so amped up.” He grunted when she pushed back on his fingers. “Christ, you’re so fucking wet.”

She angled her head back and pressed a kiss to his collarbone. “More,” she pleaded.

He smirked against her temple. “Knew you would come to me. I’ll have you begging so prettily for my touch,” he goaded, ripping the stitching that held the light cotton material together. At her gasp, he shifted her until the cleft of her now bare arse lay flush with his hard shaft. “Eventually, you’ll only respond to me.”

“Want you.” She didn’t care she was begging. She would not think about what she was saying, only that she craved this man.

Flipping up the back of her skirt, Theo caressed her smooth and taut cheeks then spanked the right one to make her move forward. “Like that, did you?” he chuckled when he heard her sharp inhale and groan. Placing a hand at the nape of her neck, he forced her to bend over. “Grab your ankles.” 

Her arse high in the air, Hermione heard him unbuckle his belt and the shift of fabric before she felt his hot length bump up against her dripping centre. “Your skin is perfection,” he grated out. He stroked her arse then slapped her left cheek a little more forcefully, leaving a faint, pink handprint. 

A whimper issued from her, for that was all she could manage, bent over as she was. He was sliding his blunt tip sinuously up and down her sodden folds, teasing her clit on several passes. 

“Please,” she sobbed. 

Without hesitation, Theo thrust into her slick, warm core, burying himself to the hilt. Her muscles tightened around him, and they both groaned in ecstasy at the contact. 

“Fuck! You’re so tight. You sure you and—”

“Yes!” she growled with impatience. “It’s not like he knew what he was doing at the time.”

Fingers digging into her hips, he pumped shallowly, staving off his orgasm as long as he could. “Well I do, and you’ll know the difference.” He gripped her shoulder, pulled her to a more upright position and tugged on her blouse, popping the buttons off in the process. Once rid of the material, he slipped the cups of her bra down and palmed her breasts. He quickly set up a punishing rhythm, pounding so forcefully, her chest bounced without cease. “Your tits are fabulous! Just the right handful—the way they move when I fuck you makes me want to spill myself.” 

“Oh, God—Yes!” she shouted, loving every thrust he made into her core. 

He stepped up his pace, his body responding to her gasps and moans, driving deeper, until her walls began to shudder. Holding her jaw firm, he laid his lips against her cheek and whispered harshly, “The next time we do this, I want to see your sinfully beautiful eyes telling me whom you belong to.” 

“You,” she affirmed without thinking as she began to crest.

His hips pistoned brutally against her body, his breath coming in short bursts as he neared completion. When she screamed her orgasm, calling out his name as if it were dear to her, he followed her in to bliss. 

“Gods, Theo!” 

He shouted her name in return, until he was hoarse, emptying thick ropes of come into her grasping core. 

Gasping for air and languid from their exertions, they didn’t hear the door to the shed open until someone called out. “Oi! Who’s back there?”

Hermione froze at the sound of Ron’s voice, afraid to move. When Ron looked like he was about to venture further into the shed, she slipped free of Theo and dove for cover behind a stack of Bludger boxes, praying to anyone who would listen that her fiancé hadn’t spotted her.

“I’m back here, Weasley. What business is it of yours?” Nott groused, extinguishing his _Lumos_. 

“Should’ve known _you’d_ be mucking about with some bird,” Ron accused. “I came to get an extra Beater’s Bat. Coach wants everyone on the field in ten minutes.” 

A slow, devious smile broke out on Theo’s face. “They’re going to announce the line up, I expect.” 

“Guess that means you’ll be going home, then,” Ron retorted without much confidence. 

Hermione heard Theo shift amongst the gear but she could tell he had a smug look when he said, “Oh, I’ll be going home. But I’ll be holding a contract as the Arrow’s Keeper, whereas you won’t.”

“Piss off, Nott!” Ron snarled before slamming the door.

“He’s gone, Granger.”

Hermione lifted herself off the floor with a grimace. “I’m a mess,” she huffed. She was sticky, wet and mortified. How had she ever let herself fall into this kind of... well, _chaos_ was the only word she could think of that summed it all up.

Theo grabbed her hand to help her up and then mumbled a hasty _Scourgify_ on both of them. “You do know I’ll be getting the Keeper position, right?”

Hermione looked down at the ruins of her blouse and sighed. “I knew that; the moment I saw the first tryout it was painfully obvious.” She startled when he cupped both her cheeks and pressed his lips to her forehead.

“You can’t stay with that prat,” he said heatedly.

Tentatively, she wrapped her arms around his back and let herself be hugged by this enigmatic wizard. “He loves me,” she whispered uncertainly. 

Theo sighed heavily and nuzzled her hairline. “I would be lying if I said I loved you, Granger. You’re a damn fine woman and witch; that much I know.” He ran his knuckles along her jaw. “But the beginning is there, trust me.”

Did she trust him? He was a Slytherin, albeit a rather innocuous one, but still... Ron had been with her through thick and thin, had loved her when nobody could stand to be in her presence. If she were honest with herself, however, Ron had never in the whole of their friendship or relationship, excited her as Theo Nott did. In more ways than one, she felt as if she were Ron’s flatmate—with fringe benefits. And it was obvious he didn’t think of her as family, so really, why had she not considered doing something different with her life?

“Dear Merlin, I can hear the cogs turn in that brain of yours, witch,” Theo teased and kissed the top of her head. 

She laughed softly and pulled away. “I-I would like to see where this goes, Nott.”

Still holding her hand, he rubbed his thumb over her skin to soothe her. “Theo. I think we’re on a first name basis, at least.”

“Theo,” she said with a nod and hesitant smile. She looked towards the door. “I should go.”

“What about...”

Hermione withdrew her hands from his and crossed her arms to prevent herself from touching him. She couldn’t think when she was touching him. “It won’t be easy. In fact, it’ll be quite disturbing for a lot of people, if you start a relationship with me.”

He gave her a lopsided grin. “We could tell them you got hit by a stray Bludger during practice, and it caused you to lose your taste in idiotic Gryffindors.”

Snorting, she shook her head. “That almost sounds plausible compared to the truth. Gods, I can’t believe I’m even contemplating an illicit affair with a Slytherin!” 

“I hate to break it to you, but you’ve gone beyond contemplating and jumped right into consummating it.” 

Damn. Did he have to be right? She waved her hand. “Fine. I’m the lowest of the low, then.” She returned his smirk. “But if we keep doing this, please tell me it’ll be in a bed from now on?”

He sauntered over and placed his hands on her hips. “Hermione, you’ll be lucky to be _out_ of my bed, if I have anything to say about it.”

@@@

In the end, Ron lost the coveted Keeper position to Theo Nott—his fiancé too, in the process. Of course, his family blames Hermione, calling her a fallen woman and all manner of other names. 

Ron was secretly glad of this, though he never told a soul... except for the Seeker for the Wigtown Wanderers, whom he shags every night. Clarence Watership doesn’t care about Ron’s past, as long as he gets to bugger that freckled arse as much as he wants.

Theo often tells Hermione that she’s thinking too loudly, especially when she gnaws on her bottom lip. So, he has to stop her every now and then with a quick snog or a little afternoon delight. 

If you happen by the Quidditch equipment shed and hear a rustling inside, move along, lest you get more than an eyeful of a Slytherin Keeper and the one that holds his heart.

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a pairing I'd even considered, so I took a few liberties with his character, since there's not much known about him. **The prompt:** Having an illicit lover was never going to be easy, especially when the wizard in question was the worst kind of Slytherin, a former death eater and has just taken your fiancés coveted keeper Position for the Arrows.


End file.
